Childlike

Bare Feet Running – Missing Her (Audio)

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Boy, shirtless, bare feet accustomed to the earth, shaggy chocolate locks lightened by the sun
Favorite ragged cut-offs tentatively hang on narrow hips
The slap, slap, slap of his stride down a well packed earthen path
Something slows and stirs and calls him to leave that way

He lay in a field of deep spring grasses
The warm earth held him, he made a bed between the sharp stiff stems and the soft grasses beneath
The buzz of insects, the call of birds, cow mooing in the distance
Grass and flower and Oak and cattle hung warmly over that place, moved about by the wind

No one had suggested it, there was no Youtube then teaching Westerners to breathe
Perhaps it was the connection of his bare feet to the soil and Her children
Perhaps it was the warmth and the buzz and the fragrance and the light and the tastes on the wind that called to him
His senses connected with the earth created a space there under the wide sky

He breathed in and out without thinking, without knowing that he matched the rhythms of Her
He felt Her pushing back holding him aloft as he lay still as a heavy and ancient stone
His mind began to sleep as his awareness awakened
Gazing deeply into the worlds that exist only in the white shifting shapes above him

He thought things that could not fit or be contained in a word
He thought, he felt, he knew without effort, it just was
He felt connected to Her in a real and material way, the boy was still, yet aware that he moved
She moved, the Earth turned and he turned with Her

He lay there out of time, floating, spinning, senses outgrown by the depth of him
Then, another call like a voice through water claimed his attention
The spinning slowed, the heaviness of him lightened, he remembered the warmth and the buzz and the fragrance and the light
Soon the slap, slap, slap of his bare feet on the hard packed dirt, all he thought was “That was so cool.” . . . bare feet running

He grinned and continued on his way thinking to return there someday.
He just remembered, feet no longer running
Perhaps I should
Perhaps I should have long ago

Grief – One Tear (Audio)

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Day Eight: Describe a place. I am in a place where material subjects don’t hold my attention very well.  So this is an attempt at describing an emotional space.

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I have penned no words for you since forever

Out of time though, my heart has done nothing but call your name

Over and over I find myself following paths that lead to you

Or rather they lead to places where I realize your absence

The separateness is startling and unreal

Grief too deep for words or tears, for they only well up in me

Perhaps I can not weep because I can not accept or come to terms with it

Or perhaps I just refuse to

But how can I come to terms with what is impossible

Just one tear would contain the sadness of the whole world

Perhaps that is why they will not flow

It would be too terrible

 

Daddyhood (Audio)

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I like being a Daddy. This is my baby. She is 18 now and soon to leave the house. A couple years ago we would get up early on Saturday mornings and hit the thrift stores. I would her and talk and learn about who the soul was that called me Daddy. She is in transition now. Her soul preparing her to leave our house and begin making her way in the wider world. And because she is a sensitive and aware she is feeling the changes. She is active with school and art and show choir and friends and and and . . . yet from time to time when it is quiet she will seek me out to talk or sit or laugh or cry. You know, we have not been to the thrift store in a while. I’m thinking we need to do that again soon.

I am Daddy to three souls.

This is my baby.

We go to the thrift store

I watch her sort through thousands of options

Choosing pieces that somehow effect and affect her

She puts them together in ways that are her own

She explains to me the difference between “granny” and “granny chic”

She tries to help me comprehend the subtle categories she has developed

I watch her choose and express herself

And in her choosing and expression I know her

I admire her sweet courageous soul

I love that she does not want to be different for difference sake

She would say that is as boring as being just like everybody else

She is wanting to be her

She is a glorious and brilliant thing

She is in search of her particular groove

I also like that shirts are $3 and blue jeans are $5

Chemistry – Feelings (Audio)

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Chemicals released

Rush, ride the red river

Seeking their home

Adrift, moved along the current, the pulsing rhythmic flow

Destiny dictates destination

Seeking their place, their reason

Empty spaces call out

Needing to be filled, fitted, finally whole

Need calls to need

Void longs for wholeness, for rest

Nearness excites, expands

Anticipation of consummation

Almost but not quite

Ecstasy, release, exquisite loss as two become one

Base matter transformed

Energy now rushing back to its source

Flesh now spirit soars free

Yet needing a tether, a link, a meaning

Feeling cataloged, sorted, processed

Needed to know

Dialectic now

Good – Bad, Happy – Sad, Yes – No, Less – More

To act, to refrain

To pursue, or retreat

To hide or to reveal all . . . . .

Longing to be naked and unashamed

Forgiveness (Audio)

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My heart, my Soul you long for me.  You miss my presence and the quiet rest it brings.  You miss the joy and gentle laughter.  And the familiar intimate passion whose flames burn with cleansing and refining fire.  You are torn in two, exposed in the shadows and seeking relief, some covering for your nakedness.  No wonder you seek my attention.  No wonder that at times in your wrath I am shamed, belittled, and the object of cruel humor.  I have always known you yet in my folly, my cleverness I sought You in the Other.  I performed for you to win your approval.  I poured myself into the leaky cup of achievement and was spilled out onto the dry earth.

My love I have wanted you from forever.  I now know that we share the same destiny.  To damnation or redemption we both shall go.  I now  know, I now believe where you reside, at least with my intellect (Lord help my unbelief),  Yet I still move between sense and nonsense, faith and doubt.  I strain to make the turn toward you and enter your castle.  Why can I not run a straight path into your arms so that the torture might cease?  Am I even now so twisted that straight is beyond my comprehension and ability?  I begin the journey with “I forgive You”.  You are that which I have made you.  The greater forgiveness is yours to give me.  My fear and stupidity, my double minded laziness left you alone and dying.  Do what you must my Love.  I am coming but I do not know the way back to you.  But I go out nonetheless, not knowing the way.  But I know the destination . . .

Your head on my chest, legs entwined, deep solemn rest.